


Incomplete

by Recourse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blackmail, F/F, Non-Consensual Recording
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: Sombra thinks she's found Widowmaker's weakness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [scaredybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaredybear/pseuds/scaredybear) for a couple of ideas and for getting me motivated to start this story!

This again.

Sombra sits in front of her, her usual smirk replaced with a grim mask of seriousness. An open folder lies on the desk, photographs spread out across it. Widowmaker sits across from her, wires hooked into her flesh.

Usually it’s Gabriel who does this, but he said Widowmaker was fine. Sombra has other ideas. She’s got a scanner attached to the shaved side of her head, running information over her eye as she stares critically at Widowmaker. She purses her painted lips.

She take a photograph and shows it to Widowmaker. “Who’s this?” she asks.

“Jack Morrison. Former commander of Overwatch. Believed dead. Talon suspects he is now going by the moniker Soldier Seventy-Six,” Widowmaker replies in a drone.

“Hmph.” Sombra’s eyebrow twitches. “Objective?”

“Eliminate.”

Sombra puts the photo down, and brings up another.

“Gabriel Reyes. Former Overwatch soldier, now operating for Talon under the codename Reaper,” Widowmaker says automatically. “Is there a point to this?” she adds, a twinge of irritation in her tone.

“Quiet.” Sombra throws the photograph down. “Who’s this?”

“Gérard Lacroix. Former Overwatch agent. Killed by agent Widowmaker.” Widowmaker hears something in the back of her mind, _my husband._ Irrelevant.

The corners of Sombra’s mouth perk up. “Nothing else?”

“He is dead. He is irrelevant.” There’s something wrong with Widowmaker’s voice. It feels more difficult to talk. Annoying.

“I see.” Sombra licks her lips and drops the photo. “And how about her?”

“Lena Oxton. Overwatch agent, call sign Tracer.” Another word in the back of her head, unwelcome as ever, stabbing in and muddling things. _Chérie._ Said in laughter, long ago.

Irrelevant.

Sombra’s eyebrows are raised. It’s irritating.

“Objective?” she prods.

“Eliminate on sight.”

“Interesting, very interesting.” Sombra stands up, her long fingernails tapping against her chin. “If that’s so, why did you leave her alive during your last little dance? You had _every_ opportunity to strike.”

Widowmaker stiffens. “I did not. My extraction was there. The mission was complete.”

“Surely you could spare one bullet for a _prone_ , _weakened_ enemy of Talon.” The way Sombra draws her words out scratches at Widowmaker’s calm.

“My extraction was there,” Widowmaker repeats.

“Yes, it was. In fact, I have _such_ interesting footage from that hovercraft.” Sombra chuckles, waggling her fingers in her... _way_ and producing a stable holographic screen in front of Widowmaker’s face. “Now look right here.”

And there she is, on the edge of the roof, looking down at Lena. Lena’s on her hands and knees, stumbling around. Vulnerable.

Widowmaker walks away, and Sombra eliminates the image. “Care to explain?” she asks, laughter in her eyes.

Widowmaker tears the wires out of her wrist and stands up. “We are done,” she informs Sombra. “I have indulged you. You do not have the authority to check my conditioning.”

“Then why’d you agree in the first place?” Sombra asks, blocking her path.

Widowmaker can’t recall. Nothing more than whispers. The word _hope_ comes to her mind and she doesn’t know why.

“Team cohesion. I tire of your constant questions. I assumed this would end them.” Widowmaker pushes past Sombra. “If this concerns you so much, why not take your questions to command?”

“Oh, I could,” Sombra promises. “But I was looking for an answer from you directly.”

“We needed to leave.” That’s all Widowmaker can say.

“Sure.” Sombra pats her on the shoulder as she walks out of the room. “Nice chatting, Amy.”

The urge to strike another member of Talon has never been so strong.

 

* * *

 

And...there she is.

Sombra smirks and leans back against the bar as Lena walks in, a smile on her face as always. It usually goes away by the end of the night. That’s the story the security footage tells, at any rate.

She really is quite pretty. Sombra can see the attraction. And with her loud voice and cute accent, no wonder she hasn’t quite left old Widow’s brain. Hard to forget a woman like this. Sombra meets her eye and smirks, and is quite pleased at Lena’s reaction — instant wide eyes, a little parting of the lips. Sombra beckons her to come closer.

She can hear Lena clear her throat as she approaches, trying to regain whatever sense of calm she uses to act all Tracer-y. “Little forward, aren’tcha?” she asks, plopping down on the stool beside Sombra and grinning. “Y’know, most people stare in the bad way.”

“What bad way is there to stare?” Sombra asks. “They do still get to look at you.”

“Oh, stop,” Lena says with a giggle. “You know, they...” Her face falls. “Like I’m a freak.”

“Well, aren’t you?” Lena does a double-take. “I mean, you’re a time-traveler. I’d say your freakiness is obvious — and _great,”_ Sombra continues, smiling all the while. “Own it, I say. Fly that pride flag.”

“Huh. I suppose.” Lena narrows her eyes. “I’m tryin’ to work out if you’re making fun of me.”

“Not at all!” Sombra says, putting a hand on her chest in mock-offense. “I’m being completely serious. You can’t tell me it isn’t a little bit fun.”

“Well...” Lena has a wistful smile. “Yeah. It kind of is.” She laughs to herself, then looks Sombra up and down again. “I’m sorry, this seems a bit unfair. You know my name, I’m sure, but I don’t know nothing about you.”

“Well everyone knows you!” Sombra exclaims. “It was something, watching you trying to save Mondatta. You were incredible.”

Lena looks away. “Not incredible enough to some people. People’ve said...” She gulps. “They said I should’ve taken the bullet. I didn’t — I didn’t know!”

“You did everything you could,” Sombra assures her, suppressing herself for a moment. “I thought you were amazing. I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I saw that on the news.”

“Oh. Well...thanks.” Lena clears her throat. “I still haven’t got your name.”

“Buy a girl a drink first?” Sombra suggests, giving her best mischevious smile.

“‘Scuse me?” Lena asks, smiling back. “You call _me_ over here and flirt incessantly and you want _me_ to pay for the drink?”

“That’s right.” Sombra stares her down, one eyebrow cocked.

“Well, who could say no to those eyes?” Lena says with a happy sigh, waving over the bartender.

“Just a shot of tequila or two, I think,” Sombra adds just before he gets there.

After Lena orders her own drink and they’re set up, Sombra tells her, “Rica. The name’s Rica.”

Lena smiles back at her, and from then on, it’s something Sombra’s done a hundred times before; spin a false story of herself, listen to Lena’s little woes that she already knows (she’s a lonely girl, even with her strange monkey friend,) flirt relentlessly. When Lena checks the time, Sombra knows her next move.

“I’ve gotta get home,” Lena says, looking over at Sombra. “Bar closes soon.”

“You’re not going to leave me here all alone, are you?” Sombra says with an exaggerated pout.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Lena says, a cocky grin on her face.

“That’s what I thought.” Sombra hops off the stool and stretches. “So do you just dash around the city, or...?”

“Not usually! I take a cab like everyone else!” Lena objects.

“Not _usually?”_

Lena bites her lip.

“You ever tried to take someone with you before?” Sombra asks, laying her hand on Lena’s shoulder.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, with the accelerator, it works,” Lena says. She blinks. “Wait, you’re not saying—”

Sombra grabs her around the waist, pulling her close. “Take me on a ride,” she whispers in Lena’s ear.

She chuckles at Lena’s nervous swallow. “Okay. But, uh, get behind me. And let’s get out of the door first, right?”

Once they’re outside, Sombra obeys, circling around and keeping her hands around Lena’s waist. She presses a slow kiss to Lena’s neck, reveling in the way her breath hitches. “Ready,” she murmurs.

The first dash feels like it totally scrambles Sombra’s insides. She blinks and discovers they are now on the roof of the building across the street.

“You all right there, love?” Lena asks, a little bit of smugness in her voice.

“Oh, fine,” Sombra says, slightly regretting this choice. “Just fantastic back here.”

“Here we go!”

Sombra closes her eyes until Lena’s extremely and unfairly cute laugh lets her know that they’ve arrived at their destination. “You can let go now,” she advises. “And open your eyes.”

Sombra lets go, standing back and regaining a little composure as Lena looks at her with...something. It feels nice.

“Come on,” Lena says, taking her hand and leading her through the door of the apartment building. Sombra follows, wondering if this is all just a touch too much. She’s also stumbling a bit and that irritates her. As they head up the stairs, Sombra pretends to trip (after actually tripping twice) and lets her translocator spill out of her pocket, sending it down the stairwell.

Once they’re up and in, Lena turns around and puts her hands on Sombra’s hips.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight,” she says lowly. “You’re...something.”

“We haven’t even started,” Sombra whispers, leaning in close.

Sombra takes stock of the situation as they stand in front of the doorway. She decides that Lena’s the type to like a little bit of direction.

With that, she gives her one hungry kiss, then grabs her hand and tugs her into the bedroom. Lena giggles as she’s thrown down on the bed, propping herself up on her hands as Sombra crawls across the bed and settles herself on top of her. She slides Lena’s jacket off of her shoulders, then grabs the straps of her accelerator.

“This better come off,” she growls, though she knows it does.

“Yeah, as long as it’s nearby, yeah, yeah, get it off,” Lena pants, squirming underneath Sombra. Sombra leans in and kisses her neck, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she works to unstrap the heavy device. She has to lift it with both hands, and it makes a pretty significant _clunk_ when it hits the floor. Lena lies back, sighing with relief.

“Always good to be home,” she murmurs, reaching up and tangling her hand in Sombra’s hair. “Especially right now.”

There’s something so soft in her voice. It feels strange. Sombra pushes it down and leans in again. “I’ll make it better,” she promises, and then she bites at Lena’s neck. Her cry is sweet, and her hands move to Sombra’s back, digging their nails in deep.

Lena is alive beneath her. She smiles wide as Sombra gets her out of her clothes, her skin flushed and pink beneath them. She’s warm to the touch. When Sombra enters her she gasps at first, then bites her lip, and the more attention Sombra pays to her body with her free hand or her mouth, the more vocal she gets. Until, suddenly, amazingly, she’s _laughing,_ really laughing like a madwoman, managing to work in a “Rica” or two in her audible ecstasy. She pulls Sombra close as she climaxes, panting in her ear.

Sombra pulls out of her and takes a moment to enjoy nestling her head in Lena’s collarbone. She shouldn’t be doing this, but what’s the harm? It feels nice.

“Oh,” Lena breathes out, eventually. “Oh, I needed that. Mmm.” She nuzzles into Sombra’s shoulder.

Sombra wants to mock, to say _I know,_ but she can’t show herself, not just yet.

When Lena asks what Sombra wants, she tells her, and Lena seems to have a good time with that, too; she likes being ordered, loves it when Sombra lets herself go and starts swearing. Sombra exhausts Lena’s wrists and jaw until she knows she can take no more, and collapses on top of Lena, breathing heavily. Lena rubs her back and plants kisses on her chest.

Sombra finds that she doesn’t want to leave the bed. Not yet. She rolls off and lets Lena cuddle up to her, mumbling something like “Can you stay here forever?” Sombra can’t help the little chuckle she lets out. She pulls her close with one arm, wrapping it around Lena’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Lena murmurs.

Sombra has nothing to say to that.

She gets up after her body’s cooled somewhat, dressing herself and heading into the bathroom, leaving a sleeping Lena alone on the bed. She looks into the mirror as she takes out her contact lenses, those little cameras sitting over her eyes. She pulls the data from them with her fingers, expanding a small holographic viewscreen and cutting the footage to her own perfect specifications. Just as she’s ready to send it off to Widowmaker’s personal files, she hears the door open behind her.

“Rica, what are you—” Lena stops dead in her tracks, staring at the interface, the freeze-frame of Sombra’s hands on her body.

Perfect.

Sombra chuckles to herself as she closes the interface and sends the files off, turning to Lena. “Well, this was fun,” she says, putting her hand on Lena’s shoulder. “But it’s time for me to go, I think.”

“You were just — what were you doing?!” Lena demands, blocking her way out. “Y-you _filmed_ us? What are you going to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry, pobrecita,” Sombra chides. “It’s not going online. Just one very specific person. An old friend of yours, I think.”

The color’s drained from Lena’s face. “Y-you...” She’s shaking. “I—why would you do this?”

“Amélie’s turning into a bit of a wild card—”

Lena dashes forward and shoves Sombra into the wall, hands around her throat. “ _What_ did you say?”

“I said,” Somba begins, hovering two fingers over a button on the palm of her right hand, “That I need leverage on Amélie. She’s changed just a little since you knew her, amiga.”

“You complete psychopath, I thought you _liked_ me—”

Sombra laughs in her face. “You should’ve known I’m too good to be true.”

She presses down and transports herself to the bottom of the apartment complex, and she is gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Sombra hacks open the door to Widowmaker’s quarters, then leans in the doorway. Widowmaker stands inside, clad in just a compression shirt and underwear, giving her the same bored stare as always.

“Here to gloat?” she asks, walking up to the doorway and putting a hand beside Sombra’s face to brace herself. “What was the purpose of your little exercise?”

“Watching your face on the monitors,” Sombra replies easily.

“For what purpose? Do you think I am a danger to the team?”

“What? I couldn’t care less about your value to _Talon,_ ” Sombra says with a dismissive handwave. “I care about your value to _me._ And I saw what I needed to see.”

“Hmph. Did you?”

Sombra narrows her eyes. “Of course. It’s simple: you do what I want or I kill your little crush. I got close to her so easily.”

“My conditioning has not failed,” Widowmaker says. “You have no power over me via this woman.”

Sombra scoffs. “I saw your face.”

“What you think you saw is irrelevant,” Widowmaker says. “If you think my programming is so flawed, I have another ‘test’ for you.”

“What?” Sombra feels a nervous twitch in her fingers. This isn’t how this was supposed to go at all.

“You seem to believe sex is the key to breaking my programming. If you want to test that theory,” Widowmaker says as she grabs Sombra by the collar and pulls her in, “Wouldn’t it make sense to do some experimenting yourself?”

Sombra’s eyes widen.

“Well?”

“Bring it on,” Sombra challenges. Sure. What does she have to lose? The door closes behind her as Widowmaker pulls her in.

Widowmaker is...efficient. At best. She removes Sombra’s clothes methodically, leaving her standing naked in the middle of the room. She doesn’t kiss Sombra, but nor does she assault her or force her down on the bed. Her hand is cold between Sombra’s legs, rubbing mechanically, building something in Sombra that feels sick and artificial. She stares into Sombra’s eyes all the while.

Sombra expected the woman to dominate her. To tie her up, or step on her, strike her and call her worthless. Or maybe she just wanted that, but Widowmaker should be angry. Sombra fucked her girl! That’s how these things are supposed to work! Where’s the anger? The passion? The _fight?_

Sombra can’t help but recall her first impression of Widowmaker, back when she’d joined Talon. An abomination. Worse than an omnic. It had been so fun when she thought she saw Widowmaker cracking, but was it all in her head?

She’s struck out of her thoughts when Widowmaker shoves a finger inside her, a frozen shock within her body. _Dios mio, it’s like someone stuck an icicle up there._ She grits her teeth. Widowmaker’s _technique_ is flawless. But the moment in here is silent and dead.

There are no nails digging into Sombra’s back. There is no laughter. There’s nothing but Widowmaker’s soulless eyes, boring into Sombra, her breath steady and even as Sombra’s hitches.

She doesn’t want this to be this way. She doesn’t want to give in, but she can’t help it, can’t stop the whines building in the back of her throat. She reaches out and grabs onto Widowmaker’s shoulders, but she’s stiff as a statue, there is no give in her muscles, even while Sombra’s falling apart.

She ends up leaning into Widowmaker as she comes, burying her nose in her neck and panting. Widowmaker draws out of her and stands as if at attention.

“Satisfied?” Widowmaker asks. Sombra swallows.

“You’re telling me you don’t want more?” Sombra tries to tease.

“What’s the point?”

What’s the point, indeed.

Sombra gets off of Widowmaker. She doesn’t look at her as she gathers up her clothes. She leaves the room.

She swears she can hear a little chuckle as she leaves. Shivers run through her body. She recalls a statement from Talon files.

_Widowmaker only feels brief, fleeting emotions when she has eliminated a target._

 

* * *

 

Widowmaker stares through her scope, down the hallway window. A red-headed girl knocks at one of the doors. Through the devices she planted there days ago, she hears soft words in her helmet.

“Lena? Lena, are you all right? Nobody’s seen you for days.”

No one except Widowmaker. Lena hasn’t put on her chronal accelerator since Widowmaker arrived in London.

Widowmaker takes in a deep breath of the cool night air. She’s getting used to these. The moments where the world seems vibrant and alive. She remembers it from Mondatta, from Amari. It comes so easily now that she can control it, enjoy it privately.

Seeing Sombra taking advantage of Lena had been amazing. Her blood pumped in her veins. Her head screamed and broke the dead silence. She hears herself better, now. She can always pick out when Amélie is breaking through. She can feel her when she thinks of Gérard, and when she sees Lena. Sometimes, she can even remember what they talked about.

_“Stop butchering my name.”_

_“What? I don’t butcher it. Amélier. See?”_

_“Now you’re doing it on purpose.”_

_“Okay, y’kno what? It’s Amy now.”_

_“Bloody English,” she says, though her smile is small and secret and her cheeks flushed._

She sighs. It had been so easy to fool Sombra. She took pleasure in giving her nothing. She can feel desire returning, too. Always unspoken between her and Lena, never acted upon. It never will be acted upon. In the end these are just moments she’s looking for between missions.

“Lena?” the girl asks again.

“Go ‘way.”

“Lena, I’m really worried about you—”

“No you’re not.” Lena sniffs. “No one cares about me. I’m just a freak. Just something for people to use and throw away.”

“Lena...” Widowmaker can hear the strain in her voice. “We’ve been living across from each other for months. I always wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t want to come across as...as some fangirl. But I _hate_ seeing you like this.”

There’s no response, for a moment.

“I always thought you were cute,” Lena mumbles. “But you didn’t even look at me.”

“I looked when you weren’t looking,” the girl shyly admits. “Lena, I—I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. The world still needs heroes.”

“I’m not much of a hero.”

“Well...you were always mine.”

Silence again. Widowmaker revels in the sick, dark feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Can I come in? Just for tea?”

The door unlocks.

Widowmaker pulls back her scope and sits on the edge of the rooftop, drawing her visor over her face.

She listens just to feel a pulse.


End file.
